I had spent one full year living in Japan. I had battled with cultural shocks, I had battled my own pre-conceived ideas about life and culture. I had sat on a crowded train carriage, to look around and notice I was the only foreigner around. I had 1 year of ups and downs and sideways curves. 1 year of struggling with the language, and just plain struggling to fit in. 1 year of stress and problems at work caused by Bill and Shane. I wasn’t yet ready to leave Japan, but god was I ready to go back home for a holiday.
When I came to Japan, naturally, I was extremely open to the Japan experience. I was a big Australian sponge, ready and primed to extract meaning and experiences from everything around me. I had eaten lots of Japanese food, I had even studied a smidgeon of Japanese. I had made some Japanese friends in Australia in the weeks prior to my trip to Japan. I was locked and loaded for Japan. As such, when I landed, nothing really took me by surprise. I had no singular “culture-shock”, that all the travel books like to talk about. I said “wow, that’s interesting”, and “hm, that’s a bit different” more times than I could count (and I still do!), but nothing seriously hit me in the face, or took the wind out of me.
When I went into a shop in Japan for the first time, everyone looked at me, smiled, and almost shouted : "Irraishaimase!". I was a bit confused, and had no idea how to appropriately respond, so I simply nodded my head, smiled awkwardly and proceeded with my purchase. I later asked a Japanese person what "Irraishaimase" means. He said : "It is for when you go into a shop. The shop people are welcoming you. If they do not welcome you, it is very rude in Japanese culture, because you are the customer. You don't even need to respond, because you are the customer!" He explained.
Even after he told me that it was not necessary to respond, I still had a lot of trouble with this. Naturally, I was brought up in Australia to respond to people who talk to you. When you walk into a shop, and 3 people drop what they're doing, flash you a big smile, and say heartily "WELCOME TO OUR SHOP!", it's hard to ignore that. Once I tried to reply back. A staff member looked right at me, and said "Irrashaimase!", and I looked back, smiled, and said "Arigatou Gozaimasu!". She looked at me uncomfortably. I looked back. She slowly turned back to her work, obviously unsure of how best to respond. I realised this approach wasn't working either. All I was doing was transferring the awkwardness I was feeling back onto her.
Another time, I went into a shop with a guy who had been living in Japan for a couple of years. He walked in first, so a couple of staff looked at him, and said "Irrashaimase!" and he brushed past them, not even looking at their faces. This horrified me. Later that week I went into a shop with a Japanese friend, and of course, the same thing happened. I started to realise that not acknowledging these people is not a bad thing, it's just a natural part of the culture.
Slowly, but surely, my view on this was changed. I became used to walking into a shop, looking at a staff person, the staff person saying "Irraishaimase", and me either nodding, or not even acknowledging it. This became the normal routine for me : walk in, Irraishaimase, ignore, proceed with shopping.
One time, someone saw me walk into their shop. They DIDN'T say irraishaimase. Of course, I'm a foreigner, and I look like a foreigner, but I was used to my regular routine, and I felt upset that someone had messed with it. I stopped in my tracks, and stared at him. He stopped and looked back at me, and after a few seconds of awkward pause (for him, I knew I was in the right so I didn't feel awkward at all), he coughed nervously and said "uh.... irraishaimase." In this case I smiled back to defuse the tension, and proceeded with my shopping.
After a while, I realised that this is the culture, and I adapted. If the FOB Firefly ("fresh off the boat") saw the "one year living in Japan" Firefly, I can tell you he would be absolutely shocked at how I was treating shop staff. He'd shake me and say "What the hell is wrong with you? She just looked right at you, and welcomed you for coming into the shop! Say something!!". Of course, I would simply smile and pat him on the back, since his conversion into the non-reactive shopper would already be in the making.
Anyway, returning to the first paragraph, I had spent one year in Japan, and I was due to go back home to Australia at Christmas time. I was brimming with excitement. I would be able to see my friends, my family. I'd be able to go to a beautiful Australian beach. I would be able to sit down at a coffee shop with an English newspaper, breathe in the fresh air, and drink a cappuchino. I'd be able to buy some Vegemite! Eat a Tim-Tam!
I arranged the administrations side of my trip, and before I knew it, I was on the plane burning a path across the Pacific Ocean. I jumped at the chance to catch up on a couple of recent movies that was showing on the entertainment system, then I went to sleep.
I was nudged awake by a member of the Quantas staff. "Noodles or the eggs!". Groggily, I opted for the eggs. Both choices are incorrect actually, but the eggs are the lesser of 2 evils. A short while after consuming the packaged meal, the sun intensified within the cabin, and the captain came onto the intercom, and advised us that we've already commenced decent into Sydney, and we'll be landing at 6:35am. I bounced up and down in my seat.
Finally, the plane landed. I didn't even wait for the seatbelt sign to turn off, I jumped up from my seat, grabbed my bag from the overhead locker, and bounced to the front of the queue. Some of the cabin crew shot me a distasteful look, but immediately softened their expression upon seeing the excitement in my eyes. The hatchway opened and I bounded into the terminal. I was overcome with emotion. The air was clean and fresh. All of the signs were in English. People walked past me, speaking in English. I walked through duty free - all foreign products! I mean, all Australian products!!
I bounced along to immigration. The main sitting behind the desk took my passport, looked at me, and asked :
"Where have you been young man?"
"Tokyo, Japan!" I replied, excited to speak English.
He looked at the computer screen, and paused.
"Welcome home." He closed my passport, handed it back to me and smiled warmly.
I smiled back, grabbed my passport, and went through to baggage collection. I waited for a few minutes for my bag to appear from the conveyor belt, and walked out the exit. My parents were due to meet me, but a quick glance around confirmed that they weren't there. I stood in the airport, among the English din, surrounded by foreigners (I mean, Australians), and just smiled.
I suddenly realised my throat was dry. Mount Franklins water!! My favourite brand of bottled water. I looked left and right, and quickly located a convenience store. I walked over, and entered the shop. Behind the counter was an Indian guy, looking busy with his work. I walk into the shop, plant my feet down, and look at the Indian.
He looks up at me for a moment, and then returns to his work. I remain frozen in place, staring at him. He continues work for a few more seconds until his eyes flick up, and he sees that I am still there, staring at him.
I'm excited, but also very tired since I didn't sleep much on the flight, but on some level I dimly realise that I am waiting for him to say "Irraishaimase." I continue to stare.
He drops the papers he had in his hands, and looks over to me. He opens his mouth to speak. My eyebrows rise in anticipation.
"What the fuck are you looking at?" He says, in a thick Indian accent.
"I... er... what, the... what?" I stutter back.
"Are you going to buy something? Or do I need to call security!" He continued, enunciating the word security with a sharp poke of his finger. He leaned back, waiting for my response.
"Oh, right, yes, I'm sorry. Mount Franklins water please. I apologise." I shake my head to try to rattle out the fog, and hand him over some Australian money I had already converted. He looks at me like I crawled out of a drainpipe, hands me my chance, and doesn't even say "thank you".
I was stunned for 30 minutes after this interaction. For the first time in my life, I had experienced the elusive "reverse-culture shock".
Welcome home.
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I was looking forward to opening my pay slip.
I was especially looking forward to claiming some money back for my weekend of hell. The pain in my legs had long since worn off, but the irritation and anger at being sucked into the weekend and Shane's awkward rebuke still simmered beneath my peaceful exterior.
Wednesday rolled around, and I came back to the office in the late afternoon to find an envelope with my name on it. Hooray.
I sat down, and opened the envelope.
Base Salary : 350,000 yen
Tax : 12,330 yen
Regular Work : 160 Hours
Overtime : 0 hours
Extended Overtime : 0 hours
Total Pay : 337,670 yen.
I examined the pay check again. 337,670 yen? 0 hours overtime? I blinked.
I looked up at Shane and Bill. Their desks were at the far end of the office against the windows. They faced the worker desks, so we could see their faces and not their screens. They were working as normal, their faces impassive. I blinked again.
There must have been some kind of mistake. Right. A simple accounting error. Actually, maybe I screwed up my timesheets, and put in my time on a weekday instead of the weekend. Then the overtime wouldn’t have been calculated. I slowly began nodding my head. Probably just my mistake. I better go check with Shane.
I stood up, and walked over to Shanes desk.
“Sorry to disturb you, Shane,” I said, clutching my sickly paycheck. “I noticed that all the weekend overtime I did wasn’t actually written on my payslip here. See how it says 0 hours overtime? I did about 10 hours that weekend. Did I make a mistake or screw up my timesheets or something?”
Shane seemed to freeze for a moment. He looked at me, looked at my paycheck, and then stole a glace at Bill.
“Right…. The overtime,” Shane said slowly.
I looked at him in anticipation. He coughed lightly and uncomfortable, the phlegm from his cigarette habit rattling in his lungs. He looks guilty, I realised.
“You should talk to Bill about that, I think.” Shane said, finally.
Bill, upon hearing his name, looked over at me and Shane. He looked down and saw my payslip. Almost imperceptibly, he scowled. My eyebrows furrowed. What is going on here?
I walked over to Bill’s desk. “Hi Bill, sorry to disturb you, Shane said I should talk to you about my pay slip?” I said as politely as I possibly could.
“What overtime?” Bill asked.
“All the overtime I did for the rack move 2 weeks ago. Remember?” I prompted Bill.
“That’s not overtime.” Bill said.
“Um, yes… the weekend overtime. It was a Saturday, and Sunday, and I worked. That’s overtime.” I said.
“No, we couldn’t charge the client for your work. So you don’t get paid for it. This is all in your contract, why don’t you go and look it up. Anyway, I’m busy now.” Bill said impatiently.
“Um, I don’t quite understand. Bill can I speak to you outside for a moment?” I asked.
“I’m busy now.” Bill said without hesitation.
“I won’t take 5 minutes. I’d really like to sort this out” I said.
Bill grunted, and pushed his chair away from his desk angrily. He stood up and quickly walked outside. I followed him.
“Let me try to explain whats going on right now. I worked really hard that weekend. I cancelled my plans, and I worked for you. Because you said you needed my help. I did my best to help you out, and now you’re telling me that I’m not even going to get paid for it?” I said.
“This is all in your contract. Because we can’t charge the client, you don’t get paid.” Bill said. He looked past me to the door, but I had him cornered, since I stood in the doorway.
“But you’re going to sell those racks to customers for 200,000 yen each. All I’m asking for is my legitimately worked overtime. It’s like, 25,000 yen?” I enunciated.
“I’m not going to stand here and discuss this with you. I’ve already told you. You’re not getting paid.” Bill said with an air of finality.
“That’s ridiculous. You’re not even going to pay me regular rates? I can’t stand for that, it’s crazy!” I shouted.
“I’ve had enough. Move out of my way.” Bill said, pushing past me. I tried to stand in the door, but Bill shoved past me and returned to his desk. I stood there, fuming.
Shane came outside, and lit up a cigarette and looked at me. I looked back at him. He coughed nervously.
“Too bad about that, huh.” He said, his eyes averted. Godammit, what a fucking puppet. He knows it’s wrong, but he won’t stand up to Bill.
“Yeah, that’s just too bad.” I said angrily, and walked back inside. I imagined myself shouting as loudly as I could in frustration to relieve some tension. It didn’t work.
I walked back over to my desk, switched off my PC, gathered my things and walked over to the door. My work-mates looked up at me, sensing something was wrong. I shot Bill a dirty glance, but he wasn’t even looking at me. I spun around and left the office.
I felt dizzy walking back to the train station. How is that possible? Is it even legal for him to not pay me for time I worked? That’s bullshit. I got home, and pulled out my contract. I looked at the compensation clause.
“Employee will not be paid in respect of work completed where Employer is unable to directly charge a customer.”
Oh. It is there. That’s a bit rude.
I then went through all of my previous pay packets, and compared them to the actual hours of work I performed. I found multiple discrepancies – none in my favour of course. I realised this had been happening for about 10 months, and I had just trusted them to do the right thing by me, and pay me what I earned. I’ll never make that mistake again.
I’ve later found out this was an illegal contract. You can’t make an employee work, and then make them agree to not be paid. It’s like contracting someone to murder you – you still get charged for murder, and you would still get charged by the Labour Bureau for illegally treating workers.
Anyway, I went back to my shoebox apartment, and fell asleep. I woke up the next morning feeling cheated. I got ready for work, and left at 8:25. I picked up a coffee and my favourite egg, lettuce and tomato sandwich from Caf醇P de Crie, and headed into work. I stuffed the sandwich down my throat before I arrived to work, because Bill told me once that I shouldn’t waste time eating breakfast at work, and I wasn’t in the mood to argue.
I walked in at 9am, and sat down at my desk. Bill and Shane weren’t there yet. I loaded up the Sydney Morning Herald website to check the local Sydney news. My mind wandered to the internet access logs, and I braced myself for a potential future complaint about visiting non-work related websites at work. I shrugged off those thoughts, and after spending a few minutes keeping up to date with the happenings in Australia, which allow me to better talk and relate to my Australian clients anyway, I began to prepare for my client trip to Kamiyacho.
Bill and Shane arrived at the same time – 9:40am. They walked past me, and didn’t say good morning. I didn’t feel particularly obliged to say good morning either. I returned to my work.
I glanced at the date on the PC clock. 13th of October, 2001. I mused on my time in Japan so far. I had arrived in August of 2000. My working holiday visa was going to expire after a year and a half. That means my visa will last until February 2002. Only 5 months left!
I paused for a moment to consider what would happen when my visa expired. I would have to leave Japan. What would happen? Would there be a way to stay in Japan? Would it even be possible? Doubtful, I thought, solemnly. Since I had no University degree, and I didn’t have 10 years of commercial experience in my field, getting a working visa was pretty much impossible.
Bill and Shane – how much longer could I stand working for them? I would have to leave Japan in 5 months. No company would hire me for that period of time – not for the salary I was on anyway. Looks like you have to harden the fuck up, and see it through, I told myself. If you want to stay in this country, anyway. I nodded silently to my unspoken decision.
The calendar in my Outlook dinged. I had to leave to visit my client. I turned off my computer. I packed up my laptop (which I had purchased myself, since Bill and Shane wouldn’t buy me one), and put all of my engineer tools into my bag. I stood up, and walked to the door. Just as I was about to walk through the door, Bill called out.
“Wait up a minute – you’re going to Kamiyacho right?” Bill asked.
“Yeah.” I responded.
“I’ll give you a lift there. Hang on a minute…” Bill said.
“I’m fine. I’ll just take the train. See you later.” I tried to leave.
“No, I’m going there anyway. Just wait there, will you?” Bill said, collecting some of his things from his desk.
I reluctantly stood there for a couple of minutes as he got ready to leave. I looked at my watch. He stood up.
“Lets go.”
I followed him outside to the car. He opened it, and I sat down. Kamiyacho was only a 15 minute drive, but I would have preferred to take the train. Being around Bill made me fell ill. He pulled out of the small parking lot, and we were on the road.
“So… You’ve been here for over a year now.” Bill said, while we were stopped at some lights. My ears perked up. Something was going on. Was I going to get a raise?
“That sounds about right,” I said, noncommittally.
“Right. Well, I wanted to tell you, “ Bill cleared his throat. “You’re doing a fine job. All of the clients speak very highly of you, and things are going really well.”
What the hell was that. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Somethings going on. Working in this company, you quickly learn to sense when something really messed up is going to happen, and my spidey sense was ringing off the hook.
“Also, with the current economic climate, we’re not able to continue with the previous rate of payment.” Bill swallowed. “So, from this month, your pay will be cut by 50,000 yen.”
“..W-w-what?” I stuttered, in shock.
“But I don’t want you to take this the wrong way.” Bill said, quickly. “It’s just how things are. It’s not because you’ve been doing a bad job, or anything. The work you’re doing is really good actually. But we have to give you a 50,000 yen pay decrease.”
“But, that’s a big percentage of my salary! We’re in the middle of a contract! You can’t just drop my salary like that!” I said, tears of futility welled up in my eyes.
“Well, I already have. You’re on 300,000 yen now. It’s not negotiable.” Bill said, as he pulled over the car. “Heres your stop.”
I sat in the car unwilling to get out. “Look, Bill – you can’t just do this. I was banking on that salary to be there. I’ve got bills to pay – I was planning on going home to Australia for Christmas! Come on, mate.” I pleaded, pathetically.
“Hop out. I’ve got a meeting to go to. Hurry up.” Bill prodded me.
I sat there, speechless. I tried to will into existence the perfect sentence or phrase that would make Bill see some reason and not suddenly cut my salary. I came up blank, and I ended up sitting there in silence. I brusquely wiped away an angry tear that threatened to slide down my cheek and betray my helplessness.
“Find another job, if it bothers you that much.” Bill said. “Now come on, hop out, I’ll be running late.”
I opened the car door, and stepped out. I pulled out my bag. I was silent. I had nothing to say. I closed the door, and the car drove off immediately. Zombie-like, I stumbled into the client site, scenarios and analysis pumping through my head.
“Find another job, if it bothers you that much.” Bills voice repeated in my head. “Find another job,” his sneering tone cut through my mindless state. I suddenly realized what was happening. My visa was expiring in February. I had only 5 months left. I could only work for another 5 months, before I have to leave Japan for good. Bill knew that. Bill also knew that no other company would hire me for only 5 months. Bill thinks he has me over a barrel, I realised. He thinks he can treat me like SHIT, and drop my salary, because I’ll suck it up, and take it, since I have nowhere else to go.
Well, fuck that. And fuck Bill. I’m not the kind of person to be taken advantage of. In fact, what a dirty bastard. My previous helpless state was instantly gone. In its place, stood a pissed off, defiant Firefly ready to take some major action. I could clearly see what was going on - Bill is trying to screw me. Again. And I won’t let that happen.
I did the work I had to do at the clients, and left work on time at 6pm. I went home, and pulled out my laptop. I started typing.
“Dear Bill, Shane.
Firstly, thank you very much for all of my experiences at your company. I very much enjoyed my time here, and I learned many things. However it is with regret that I inform you I will be terminating my employment contract, effective immediately. In compliance with the contract, I will provide 30 days of further work. My last day will be the 14th of November, 2001.”
I stopped typing, and re-read what I had typed so far. An unexpected wave of euphoria and ecstasy coursed through my body. I had no idea how freeing and exciting it was to quit a shit job. Inspired, I continued writing the rest of the resignation letter. It was very polite, and written in very polite English, that masked my underlying contempt for Bill and Shane. It was my masterpiece – a polite resignation letter that read well, but managed to pound the reader with a reverberating underhanded “FUCK YOUUUUU”. I smiled and admired my work. I couldn’t wait to give it to them.
Next morning came slowly. I arrived to the office at 9am. Bill and Shane weren’t there. I took particular delight in printing out my resignation letter on the company printers. I signed 2 copies of the document, and returned to my desk. I sat there bubbling in delight and in anticipation of handing the resignation letters to Bill and Shane.
I told my colleagues what happened, and my planned response and subsequent resignation. They all responded with shock and disgust at my sudden drop in pay, and supported my resignation. None of them had the same speech, nor had their salaries docked money. He thought he had me, the bastard. Wait until I give him this. I glided my hand over the freshly laser printed paper. I waited for them to arrive.
While waiting, I realised the hot secretary was looking at me, and twirling a lock of her long black hair around her finger. Of course, I would never date a colleague because of the potential for problems. However, as soon as I handed those two sheets of paper over to Shane and Bill, we would no longer be colleagues. My mind went off on a tangent to resigning, and I looked back at her and smiled.
Our moment was ruined by Bill pushed through the way, and walking to his desk. He sat down, and started work. Shane followed suit. I inhaled deeply, and stood. I picked up the two identical, signed sheets of paper. I walked over to Bill. I looked him in the eye, and smiled. I placed the sheet in front of him. I walked over to Shane and placed my letter in front of him as well. I walked back to my desk, filled with glee.
I looked at Bill. He was reading through the letter. His face was impassive, completely unreadable. A hint of disappointment bubbled it’s way to the surface, and almost definitely played across my face. I was hoping for a much stronger reaction. He finally finished reading, nodded almost imperceptibly, and returned to his work. I felt cheated, but I also felt like I won the lottery. I sat back in my chair, as the 1 month countdown began.
Again, I began idly thinking about what would happen after 1 month. And what would happen after my visa ran out? Truth be told, I desperately wanted to stay in Japan. My entire life is in this country. All of my friends, my martial arts, my sports – my entire life. I had built an existence for myself in this strange foreign land, and I was loving it. I wasn’t ready to leave. I decided I would stay.
Japanese Immigration probably has some different ideas about that, I thought sullenly. I don’t fit into any of the work visa categories. I started to feel a bit down, but I quickly decided that I shouldn’t be focusing on a few months down the track. Or even how I would survive after I leave the company. Now was the time to celebrate leaving this goddamned shit job. I beamed a large smile. The secretary noticed, and beamed it back. I kicked back in my chair. Life is good.
“Firefly. Where are those updated Excel spreadsheets.” Bill shouted out, his dull voice imploding my giddy happiness. Oh fuck, one month to go, I thought. I swore quietly and loaded up Excel.
I was working at a customer site doing a server build. It was a routine job, and I'd done it a number of times before. While the progress bar crawled across the screen, I looked around for people to chat with. Everyone seemed pretty busy. I sighed, and returned to watching the progress bar. It was just about due for a CD change, when the client manager walked past.
Tanaka : "Oh, hey Firefly. Hows it going?"
Firefly : "Pretty good thanks! How are you?"
Tanaka : "Fine, fine. So, I need costings for next month. What are we looking at?"
Firefly : "Uh, costings?"
Tanaka : "Right. I'm doing the budget."
Firefly : "Sorry, but I don't know what you mean."
Tanaka : "The move. Are we looking at above 5 million yen? Below? Have you put together a proposal yet?"
Firefly : "Sorry, the move?"
Tanaka : "Right. Look I don't have much time, whats a ballpark figure?"
Firefly : "I really don't know, I didn't know there was a move. What kind of move?"
Tanaka : "The OFFICE move, course!! We're moving soon. You didn't know about that?"
Firefly : "Oh, um, actually, I hadn't been informed yet."
Tanaka : "Well you better get informed, I think you're the main tech on the project."
Firefly : "I'm the main tech?!"
Tanaka : "Come on, get with the program. You've got a lot of work to do."
Tanaka briskly walked off, irritated I was unable to supply him with the answer he needed. I sat there feeling stupid for a moment, before I realised that I wasn't supplied the information that I needed! Plus I looked like an idiot when I wasn't aware of the biggest project involved with that client. My irritation grew into anger. I sat there, finishing the server build. Another worker walked past.
Matt : "Hey what do you think of the new office?"
Firefly : "Oh, I haven't actually been there just yet."
Matt : "You haven't seen it? Bill and Shane were there just last week. I saw them when I did my inspection."
Firefly : "Oh yeah? Great. Nice place?"
Matt : "Yeah it's great. You should go and check it out."
Firefly : "So, er, where is it?"
Matt : "Behind Akasaka, next the TBS building."
Firefly : "Ok. Thanks."
I grimaced and returned to my server build. 30 minutes later, I finished. I walked around talking to users and fixing some various problems. I looked up, and noticed Bill and Shane walk in. They both walked into the conference room and sat down.
Odd, I thought. I didn't know they were coming today.
I finished talking with the user, then I walked over into the conference room. Shane and Bill were engaged in conversation. They briefly paused when I walked in, and then resumed talking to each other. I stood there for a moment, waiting for them to finish. After a couple of minutes, it became clear that they weren't going to stop talking on my accord. I cleared my throat. They looked at me impatiently.
Bill : "Do you need something?"
Firefly : "Actually, yeah. I wasn't aware you guys were coming in today."
Bill : "....and?"
Firefly : "And I wasn't aware that there was an office move either."
Bill : "Is this going somewhere?"
Firefly : "Yes, it's going somewhere."
Bill : "Hurry up then. Our meeting starts soon."
Firefly : "Thats exactly the problem! You guys are keeping me in the dark. I don't have enough information to do a good job for these guys, and I don't feel good charging for the work I'm doing. I had no idea this company was moving. And the client told me I'm in charge!!"
Shane is silent. He looks to Bill. Bill eyes me with relaxed indifference.
Bill : "Right. I see what you're saying."
Firefly : "You do? Thats great. So what I'm saying, is that I really want to be part of meetings. You're having a meeting with the client now, right? I really want to take part, even if I'm just listening. That way, I can be a better resource to the client, I can learn more, and I can appear informed and in control."
Bill takes a deep breath, and slowly exhales. I look at him, waiting for a response. Suddenly, the client Manager Tanaka walks through the door.
Tanaka : "Sorry to keep you waiting gentlemen."
Bill : "No problem, we just finished our conversation anyway. So, thanks very much Firefly. I appreciate your work, it's very helpful. I'll see you later then."
I stand and stare at Bill. My lip curls up in disgust.
Bill : "Thats all for now. Thanks Firefly."
Bill grins and winks at Shane, like he has won some kind of battle. I stand there smouldering, and finally turn on the spot and walk outside.
I stormed back to the server, sat down, and continued working. How humiliating. I sat there until the meeting finished. Bill and Shane left the office, and didn't even say goodbye. It was just like Dilbert, but painful and real. I realised I wasn't respected or treated as a person, just a resource generating money. The thought left me lessened, like my ability and even existence was not respected, and therefore inconsequential and useless. I swallowed hard, grit my teeth, and inserted the next CD.
A couple of days later, I was sitting at my desk, trying to avoid doing work.
Bill : "Firefly. Come here."
My ebbing motivation for work had already been sucked dry. I slowly stood up, and grudgingly walked over to Bill's desk.
Firefly : "Yes."
Bill : "I need you to work on the weekend."
Firefly : "This weekend? I have plans."
Bill : "It's really important. You're the only guy available, and I really need your help. Can you do it?"
I sighed.
Firefly : "How much work?"
Bill : "About 5 hours on Saturday, and 5 hours on Sunday."
Firefly : "Thats the whole weekend."
Bill : "Come on, Firefly, I'm counting on you for this. I really need your help. We're moving some racks, and you're the only guy around who can do the job."
I regarded Bill. He looked at me with pleading eyes.
Firefly : "Ugh, fine, alright. I'll do it."
Bill : "Good man! Thanks a lot."
Firefly : "Ok."
I walked back to my desk and emailed my friends to cancel our plans. Oh well, I reasoned. At least I get some overtime pay, and a bit of exercise. I scoffed. My own justifications felt lame and weak. I wanted to relax on my weekends, and remove myself completely from my weekday cubicle hell.
The weekend crawled around slowly, since time moves slowly when you hate your job. I woke up at 8:30am, 3 hours earlier than my regular Saturday wake-up time. I fell out of bed and pulled some old clothes on. I walked to the station mindlessly, and took the train to the job.
When I arrived, Bill was already walking around, preparing everything. He had rented a truck, and it was parked downstairs.
Bill : "Alright. The equipments over there. Grab the UPS first - careful, it weighs about 60 kilos. Use a trolley."
I stopped for a moment to consider what he said. It almost seems like he's looking after me. I felt oddly happy for a moment. Then I realised that if I snapped my back in half, he would need to do all the work. My happiness dissolved, and I returned to my previous dis-satisfied mood. I fetched the trolley and started loading.
We spent the entire weekend loading the racks onto the truck. They were heavy, and unwieldy. It took many trips ferrying equipment back and forth, and we were lifting heavy objects all day in the thick of the sticky, ultra-hot Tokyo summer. I almost broke my spine when Bill dropped one end of the Rack too. Finally, after sweating through 2 painful and sweaty days, the weekend was over. Bill dropped me off home. It was on his way. I relaxed for a few hours, before going to bed and waking up at 7:30am the next day, my body wracked with muscle pain from all the heavy lifting. I slowly and deliberately went through the motions of getting ready for work.
I ended up missing my train, and I arrived at 9:05am. Shane saw me walk in, sit down, and slump at my desk. I flicked on my computer and sat there waiting for it to boot. I considered standing up to make myself a coffee, and decided against it after I stretched out my legs, and felt another stab of muscle pain.
Shane slowly pushed out of his chair, his chair wheels squeaking on the carpet. He stood up. He walked over, and stood over my desk. I craned my neck up to look at his awkward features.
"Do you know what the time is?" Shane asked with a hint of disapproval.
My computer had logged in by now. I looked at the PC clock.
"9:07am?" I asked.
"Thats correct." Shane confirmed.
There was an awkward pause. I looked at Shane expectantly.
"Do you know what time you're supposed to come into work?" Shane pushed.
"Uhh, is that 9am?" I asked increduously.
"Yes. So, er, " Shane hesitated. "So make sure you come in from 9am."
I nodded my head, grimacing. A pain ran up my leg, and I shifted my position on my chair.
"Alright. So we understand each other." Shane said.
I stared at him, and he turned around, and walked off. I let out a long, deep sigh. Somethings gotta fucking give. I've had enough.
Fortunately, something gave. Next pay day.